


Maybe Something More

by Rubadubababyoil



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (yes we're cheesy today fellas), Accidental Cheating, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits to Boyfriends, Insecurity, M/M, Making Love, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Sad Brian May, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubadubababyoil/pseuds/Rubadubababyoil
Summary: Brian pretended the stinging he felt in his gut was from the hangover, because what else would the feeling be? He couldn’t be hurt, because he shouldn’t have expected the whirlwind that was Freddie Mercury would want anything more than a little bit of fun. Nothing more. Freddie lived in the moment and wouldn’t possibly want to settle. Brian was okay with that. Really.~(Or, Brian misses what's right in front of him.)
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 20
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is basically Brian being an insecure dumbass and missing the obvious. Freddie's insecure, too, but Brian is next level oblivious. Hope you enjoy!

To say things started off casually would be a half-truth. On the surface, they did. A drunken night at an after party, with adrenaline remaining high from the concert and inhibitions lowered from the booze, had Brian and Freddie leaning on each other more than usual until they stumbled back to the hotel room they shared and fell into the same bed. It happened so quickly, so naturally, and they kissed like they’d been doing it for years. The details of their first time were blurry—vague images of roaming hands and Freddie’s eyebrow furrowing as he bit his lip and came quietly were the only thing left in Brian’s mind. They smiled at each other the next morning, a little shyly, but then Freddie slipped out of bed, away from Brian, and didn’t talk about it all day. Brian pretended the stinging he felt in his gut was from the hangover, because what else would the feeling be? He couldn’t be hurt, because he shouldn’t have expected the whirlwind that was Freddie Mercury would want anything more than a little bit of fun. Nothing more. Freddie lived in the moment and wouldn’t possibly want to settle. Brian was okay with that. Really. He was a grown man and could handle some casual sex. Wasn’t that what men were supposed to want, anyway: sex with no strings attached? Yeah. That was a man’s dream. It really wasn’t much different from the sex he’d had on tour in the past. Touring life and domestic life were separate entities, and in Brian’s mind, the sex he had on tour didn’t mean anything for his actual personal life. Falling for anyone on tour would lead to heartache. He’d learned that with Peaches, who now seemed like a distant dream. Nothing that happened on tour would impact his real life, even if he saw Freddie once they were home in England. It wouldn’t matter that Freddie was a close friend. Friends with benefits was a thing lots of people did.

Brian spent the day subtly trying to catch Freddie’s eye, and it didn’t work. He told himself he didn’t feel badly about it.

* * *

They didn’t talk about it, but that didn’t mean things stopped, either. Freddie got him in a corner at another one of their parties a couple nights later, behind a wall and away from prying eyes, and pressed his champagne-sweet lips to his neck. Brian didn’t resist. They retreated to the loo that time, not even making it back to their room, but there was no way Brian was going to complain when Freddie dropped to his knees and watched him with dark eyes as he sucked him off.

Brian swore under his breath and had to close his eyes, because meeting Freddie’s sultry gaze while his lips were wrapped around his length was too much to bear. He was left breathing heavily and clutching the top of the stall after his climax.

Freddie simply rose to his feet, licked his lips slowly, and said with a smile, “There’s a dear.” He left the loo.

 _Okay,_ Brian thought, _so this is a thing we’ll be doing now._ He caught his breath and left the stall. His reflection didn’t look terribly debauched, but he did splash a little water onto his face before he left the loo.

Freddie was all innocent smiles when he saw him a few minutes later. “Hi, Brian. You look a little flushed, darling. Are you all right?”

Brian wanted to smack him. No, no he didn’t. He wanted to fuck him. “Just peachy, Fred,” he said with a tight smile. He made sure to remove the smug sparkle from Freddie’s eyes when he bit his neck and ground their hips together against the wall of their hotel room that night.

But Freddie, ever quick-witted, recovered quickly and pulled his red, swollen lips into a smirk. “Touché, dearie,” he poked the tip of his nose, and then slinked out of Brian’s arms and got ready for bed (in his own twin bed. Not Brian’s). He was completely unaffected by what they’d done, and Brian told himself that he was, too.

It was something of a dance they fell into.

They didn’t have sex every night, and acted as they always had towards each other during the day, but there were heated gazes in the dressing room and across dinner tables now. But for the most part, it was like there was no change to their relationship, and in a way, perhaps there wasn’t. Nights ending with ragged breathing against each other’s mouths and rumpled, wet sheets or ruined pants didn’t suddenly change the fact that they were friends, and Freddie was an elusive man in so many ways. Just when Brian thought he had him figured out, he would do something shocking. He could never hold onto him. Brian didn’t think that such a free spirit wanted a relationship with anyone right now, let alone someone like him. That wasn’t his fault, though. If Freddie wanted to live life to the fullest and mess around with one of his mates, there was nothing wrong with that. It wasn’t his fault that Brian’s chest was beginning to tear apart more and more each day. Brian told him nothing of his increasingly distressed thoughts, and Freddie promised him nothing, so he should expect nothing. They were budding rock stars; meaningless fucks were part of the business, part of being adult men. The sooner Brian stopped being dense and started enjoying himself more, the better.

They hardly said a word not only about this affair, but _during_ it, too. They didn’t talk during sex, if it wasn’t necessary. 

Maybe Freddie was just quiet when he fucked, but Brian, on the other hand, was intentionally holding himself back. 

“Are you sure about this?” he had asked when Freddie told him to fuck him for the first time.

Freddie stopped kissing his neck long enough to roll his eyes and say, “You’re hardly my first, Bri.”

And then Brian felt stupid for asking, so he kept everything to himself.

There were others words beginning to slither towards his lips when they were together. He may not have known what his feelings exactly were before their first time, but he knew he thought Freddie’s body and big brown eyes were _beautiful_ and _gorgeous,_ but those words held weight. They weren’t flirty and light, at least not in his mind. If Brian began calling Freddie beautiful, then he might start saying other things, like how much he liked being with him, or a term of endearment might slip past his lips, and that wouldn’t do. So, he would press his lips together tightly and swallow back anything but _faster_ or _harder_ or _yeah, that’s it._

They made no mention of their affair to Roger or John. Freddie just didn’t seem to care enough to say anything, but while Brian wasn’t afraid of them being bigoted, he didn’t want anyone to know about them when this could all end as soon as Freddie got bored and moved on to someone else. He didn’t want their pitying looks.

* * *

It was strange how they shared rooms on this tour, and yet Brian felt so lonely in his bed with Freddie sleeping across the room. Right now, it was past 2 and he couldn’t sleep. He looked over at the small form in the bed across from his. Freddie’s back faced him, his shoulder minutely moving up and down with his slow breathing. Something in Brian’s throat felt clogged and there was a hole in his chest. The sensation was starting to overwhelm him, and Brian had to roll over and face away before his legs carried him across the room. 

There was a part of him that was so desperately needy, but he didn’t want to scare Freddie off. He didn’t want to be such a killjoy, either, when this was supposed to be fun. It was, sometimes, especially when Freddie looked so bloody sexy on stage in his tight leotards and he let Brian fuck him into the mattress later, but that feeling faded when Brian woke up to an empty bed. And with each passing shag, Freddie was _still_ acting like they did nothing out of the ordinary, almost two months into this. Almost two bloody months of stolen touches and suppressed moans in the night that were seemingly forgotten by morning. Maybe it was cliched, but it was always harder for Brian to tell himself he didn’t feel anything serious for Freddie when he was inside him—when for a little while, they felt like one. He couldn’t take watching Freddie’s beautiful face during throes of pleasure, and he looked away by smothering kisses into his neck. It was amazing how something that felt so good was starting to eat him alive.

Brian had only been inside of him a handful of times now, since they usually did things too quickly to get to that point before someone came, but they did it earlier. As Brian’s thrusts got harder, Freddie’s eyes filled with _something._ His brow furrowed upward and he parted his lips, and then he threw his arm over his face with a whine. He nodded frantically when Brian asked if he was okay, and stifled his cry by biting his lip when he came onto their stomachs. After Brian climaxed, he’d looked at the furrow of Freddie’s brow and wanted to smooth it out, wanted to press delicate kisses over his closed eyelids and move his sweaty bangs from his forehead, but then brown eyes opened, those red lips curled into a smile, and Freddie was out of bed and showering before Brian could blink. He laid there, listening to the water run, telling himself that the _something_ in Freddie’s gaze was just his imagination. 

He didn’t sleep much tonight.

The next day, they were on the tour bus and Freddie looking out the window, lost in thought. The sun was highlighting his raven hair, making it shine. He was in one of his quiet moods.

Brian had been staring at him from across the aisle without noticing.

John did.

“Brian,” he said quietly, turning to him.

Brian startled. “Hm?” he looked to the seat next to him.

There was a hint of apprehension in John’s gaze. “Look, erm.” He licked his lips. “Is something going on between you and…?” he trailed off and subtly gestured behind him, across the aisle. 

Brian instantly flushed and he didn’t know what to do. Fuck. Denial was his instinct. “No, I—”

“That was a rhetorical question,” John interrupted. “I know because you’re not as quiet as you think,” he said flatly.

Brian wanted to die on the spot. He didn’t know if Freddie wanted people to know...but then again, he didn’t tell Brian he wanted it to be a secret. He probably didn’t care enough to keep it a secret; he talked and laughed about his hookups all the time. Brian swallowed and averted his gaze. “It’s nothing serious,” he muttered. “Just...friends with benefits.”

John stared at him.

He swallowed again.

“Really?”

Brian looked over at Freddie, confirming that he was still looking out the window. “Yeah. Um. That’s it.” He shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

John sat there for a beat. “And you’re happy with this?”

Brian’s eyes flickered to him. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked defensively.

He was unfazed. “Doesn’t seem like you. You don’t do this with someone you actually know. You’re like him, you fall for people.”

Brian’s hands felt clammy and his heart jumped into his throat. “I haven’t fal-fallen for him,” he stuttered, remembering to keep his voice down. _And he hasn’t fallen for me._

John’s stare was unrelenting.

Brian crossed his arms and looked out the window, slightly aware that he was being a little childish. His face was on fire. “Like I said, friends with benefits. We’re rock stars. We shag as many people as we want,” he grumbled. 

John sighed. “Have you actually talked to him about this?” he asked, in a tone like he already knew the answer.

Brian felt exposed. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re two adults having a good time. That’s all.”

John was quiet.

He glared out the window.

“If you say so,” he said eventually.

That night, Brian marked Freddie’s shoulders with bites as he fingered him, reveling in the feeling of Freddie’s arms around his neck and the sound of his stifled whines. 

When they were finished, Freddie looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “What inspired _that,_ hm?”

Brian wanted to kiss his forehead. He didn’t. “Do I need a reason?” he grinned.

Freddie chuckled. “Not at all, darling.”

* * *

He was exhausted a couple nights later. Touring life wasn’t easy in any respect, and he’d spent too many nights up late at the band’s after parties, and/or fooling around with Freddie. He was feeling pretty fed up with life right now and just wanted to sleep for ten hours straight before he needlessly snapped at someone. He told the others that he wasn’t feeling up to staying out tonight.

“Oh,” Freddie frowned delicately. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m just tired,” he said, pulling on a jumper in the dressing room after the show. “I need to recharge, I think.”

Freddie cupped his cheek for a moment. “All right, darling,” he said warmly, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “You go rest.”

Brian blinked, and then the hand was gone and Freddie turned away to wipe off the rest of his makeup. It was a simple touch, so much more innocent than anything else they’d done, but that was the point: that was the first chaste touch they’d shared. It was nice. Brian shook his head after staring into space for too long, and saw John looking at him.

He raised an eyebrow.

Brian huffed in irritation and walked past him. He seriously wanted to go and shut out the rest of the world with sleep until tomorrow morning—maybe even afternoon. When he got back to their hotel room, he took his time in the shower, letting the hot water slide over him and release the tension in his muscles. Eventually, he got into his bed, glancing over at the empty bed across from his. He briefly wondered if he and Freddie would have ever drunkenly reached for each other if they hadn’t shared rooms, but Brian didn’t want to think right now. He settled under the blankets, closed his eyes, and let himself doze off.

Which lasted for two hours.

Brian’s breath hitched and his eyes opened when the mattress jostled and something poked the side of his neck. He sat up quickly, heart beating hard.

“Relax, Bri.”

Brian blinked rapidly and made out the figure in the sparse light of the hotel room at night. “Freddie?”

Freddie burrowed under the covers, looped an arm around Brian’s torso, and then tugged him down onto the mattress. “Go back to sleep,” he mumbled.

Brian went down easily, calming, but feeling confused. He scooted over to the side a bit to give Freddie more room, because even though he was small, they were still two men in a twin size bed. They never shared a bed. Was something wrong? “Is everything okay?”

Freddie nuzzled his nose into Brian’s neck (that must have been what he felt a moment ago, he realized) and moved his hand up to rest on his chest. “Mhmm,” he breathed, alcohol on his breath. “It’s no fun without you,” he mumbled, lips against his neck. 

Brian’s cheeks warmed at the sensation. “You’ve partied without me before,” he pointed out through a yawn. He would have been annoyed at being woken up, because normally it took him forever to fall asleep, but Freddie felt warm and solid against his side and he was being sort of sweet.

“But I missed you,” Freddie breathed.

Brian’s heart was beating hard again. “You’re drunk,” he said to him, and to himself.

“Only a little,” Freddie pushed back. He curled up against his side and sighed sleepily. “Didn’t mean to wake you, dear. Go back to sleep.”

“’S all right,” Brian whispered, gooseflesh breaking out on his arms from the feeling of Freddie’s hot breath and fluttering eyelashes against the side of his neck. Freddie’s hand was over his chest; did he feel how quickly Brian’s heart was beating?

If so, he didn’t mention it. Freddie’s breathing evened out quickly into a deep, steady rhythm.

Brian looked up at the ceiling. He returned to the room early to get away from this situation, but Freddie crawled right into his bed, anyway. It wasn’t that Brian minded the company. He just didn’t know what it meant. He thought interrupted sleep would welcome his insomnia, but the feeling of Freddie’s soft, regular breathing against his neck made his eyelids heavy faster than he realized. When he awoke several hours later with the sun threatening to creep in through the curtains, Brian felt disoriented for a second, but remembered who was beside him. He turned his face.

Freddie was still sleeping on his side, and his eyelashes fluttered as his eyes moved under the lids in a dream. He was wearing his clothes from last night. He must have gone back to the hotel and climbed straight into Brian’s bed.

He swallowed, too groggy to try to think about what that meant, if anything. All he knew was that Freddie was cute as he slept, looking small and snuffling quietly into the pillow with his manicured hand curled loosely around the sheets.

Brian felt fondness overtaking him, and he wanted to touch him, move his hair out of his face or caress his cheek—

But someone out in the hallway laughed loudly, and the noise caused Freddie’s breath to hitch and his eyes to blink open.

Brian swallowed his disappointment. “Uh, hi,” he said, voice rough with sleep. He turned onto his side.

Freddie looked surprised for a moment, like he didn’t remember why he was here right away, but then a small, gentle smile pulled up the corner of his mouth, part of his front teeth showing. “Hey,” he said, sounding pleased. “What time’s it?”

Brian craned his neck to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Just past six.”

Freddie yawned. “Early. ’M hungover,” he whined, shutting his eyes.

“D’you need anything?” he asked, turning on his side.

“More sleep,” Freddie answered. He shuffled closer and buried his face in Brian’s thin chest. He settled with a tired moan.

Brian’s cheeks were burning. _Oh god, he’s cuddling._ He tentatively wrapped his arm around Freddie’s shoulders, and released the breath he’d been holding when he wasn’t pushed away. Freddie’s silky hair brushed the underside of his jaw, soft but uncombed from last night. They never did this before, had hardly even hugged. Brian was scared of how much he enjoyed this.

Soon, Freddie was snuffling quietly into his chest, and there was no way Brian could go back to sleep.

* * *

There was a shift in their...arrangement, or whatever it could be called. They went from frantic, adrenaline-fueled touches in the darkness of the hotel room and retreats to their own beds to literally sleeping together. The next night, after they were left naked and sweaty on the mattress, Freddie wrapped his arm around Brian’s bicep and nuzzled into the pillow. He immediately closed his eyes, as if they shared a bed all the time, and exhaled a relaxed sigh. Brian watched him fall asleep with a pounding in his chest and a million questions unformed on his lips.

He discovered there was a sort of vulnerability that came with sleeping together that was different from having sex. A couple mornings later, Brian awoke with warmth pressed against his front. He didn’t want to wake up, so he groaned quietly and buried his face into the warmth in front of him. His arm felt a little cramped, so he lifted it and looped it around the thing in front of him. It felt more solid than a pillow. He smacked his lips and settled. The solid pillow was moving up and down rhythmically. Wait.

Brian opened his eyes with a confused furrow between his brow and questioning groan.

Freddie looked at him from over his shoulder and grinned shyly. “Hi,” he said simply.

Brian was _spooning_ him, his arm wrapped around his middle and nose in his hair. He inhaled sharply and let go of him, shuffling back. His face burned. “Oh—sorry.”

Freddie frowned. “No, it’s okay.”

Brian sat up, rubbing his face, trying to will his blush away. What was he, fifteen? He was acting like they hadn’t sucked each other’s cocks. “I should—I should get up, anyway,” he said. It was ridiculous to feel embarrassed about this, but cuddling Freddie in his sleep was different from shagging. Somehow. He didn’t have the words for it right now. He was tired. He got up and went to the loo, missing how the frown deepened on Freddie’s face. When he came back into their room, Freddie was quiet and his expression was blank. Brian didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

Later that day, while Freddie was arguing with John over the stage clothes he wanted him to wear, Roger casually stood next to Brian.

“So, how long have you been shagging?” he asked under his breath.

Brian almost choked on air, his eyes widening. His gaze fixed on Freddie, making sure he was distracted on the other side of the room. “How did you know?” he asked quietly.

“You’re moping around more than usual, ‘specially when you look at him. And Deacy told me,” he added.

 _Mental note: murder John when the tour is over._ Brian gave him a look.

Roger just stared back at him. “It’s not really my business, but...have you two thought this through?” he asked, cautious in a way he usually wasn’t. “Mixing business and relationships can be tricky.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” Brian said, almost whispering, eyes back on Freddie’s movements as he sorted through clothes. “We’re just fooling around.”

Roger squinted. “...You sure about that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“You wouldn’t be in a sour mood if it was just about sex,” Roger retorted.

“What else would it be about?”

“You’ve always liked Freddie.”

“And? So have you.”

He sighed in frustration. “I mean you’ve always looked at him like he’s one of the bloody stars you see in your telescope.”

The tips of his ears burned. A quick glance reassured him that Freddie was trying to wrestle John into a feathery jacket. “I’m not having this conversation with you,” Brian hissed lowly, feeling exposed. “Especially not with him right there!” But Roger knew him the longest out of any of them, so it wasn’t a surprise that he could read him like a book.

Roger shrugged. “Fine,” he said, but he sounded disappointed.

Brian didn’t like that. 

That night, when they went to bed together, he waited until Freddie fell asleep to take gentle hold of his hand. He needed it.

* * *

The next morning, Freddie glanced over at him before they left their hotel room. “You know, yesterday before the show, I noticed you looked rather perturbed.”

Brian paused in putting on his socks. “Oh. Er, not really.”

Freddie didn’t look convinced. “I know when you’re upset by now,” he said, not unkindly. “Did Roger say something to you?”

He looked away and pulled on his other sock. “Roger’s always saying annoying shite,” he deflected. 

His mouth twitched into a smile. “Well, yes, at least to you. But your playing was so aggressive last night, darling. It made for a thrilling show, mind you, but…” he trailed off.

Brian slid on his clogs and gave him a smile. “I’m fine, really. Just general touring stress, you know. Nothing unusual.”

He nodded after a moment. “All right, if you’re sure.”

He was glad that Freddie didn’t press the matter further that day, but scolded himself for being so obvious. He wasn’t coping with this very well.

And when Freddie’s kisses were softer than usual that night, he told himself it was wishful thinking on his part.

* * *

The next morning, Brian, the night owl that he was, awoke slowly. His limbs were heavy and the fatigue of dozens of shows prevented his eyes from opening, but there were fingers in his hair, caressing through locks and brushing curls out of his face. The touches were tender and light, but Brian was a light sleeper—something which made his insomnia worse—and he let out an involuntary whine as his brain started to turn on, despite the touches feeling nice.

The fingers left his hair.

Brian opened his eyes halfway, and though his vision was blurry, he saw there were two pink spots blooming on Freddie’s cheeks.

There was hesitancy in his big eyes. “Did I wake you, darling?” he whispered, sounding like a child who was afraid he’d gotten into trouble.

Brian was too tired to be properly puzzled with why Freddie was playing with his hair, but he didn’t like the look on his face. “It’s okay,” he whispered, and pressed their lips together softly to reassure him before he could think about it. Freddie responded immediately. It wasn’t coordinated, and they both needed a toothbrush, but neither stopped. At the same time, neither tried to take it further. It was kissing for the sake of kissing. That was new. It was sleepy and light, and the sounds of their mouths moving together filled in the silence of the morning. After some amount of time passed, their slow kissing ended. Before leaving bed to get dressed, Freddie looked at him with warm eyes and a tiny sigh.

Brian’s heart fluttered.

From then on, their mornings consisted of slow, gliding kisses. Brian was able to cradle Freddie’s soft, warm cheeks in his hands and keep him close for a little while, instead of trying to please his body quickly so he wouldn’t get bored and drift away. Brian liked holding his face and feeling the lazy tangle of their legs beneath the sheets, and Freddie appeared to like it, too.

Freddie also seemed to like burying his hands in Brian’s curls as they kissed. He lightly scratched his scalp sometimes with his nails, and Brian couldn’t stop a relaxed moan from rumbling in his chest every time. It was difficult for him to wake up early as it was, and having his hair played with at 7 a.m. made his kisses slow and clumsy.

“You’re gonna put me to sleep,” he mumbled against Freddie’s mouth one morning, barely opening his eyes.

Freddie huffed a little laugh. “Go ahead,” he whispered.

Brian made a sound of disagreement. He closed his eyes when small kisses were placed to his lips and the corner of his mouth, and having his eyes closed combined with the hand carding through his hair felt good. He felt completely relaxed for the first time since the tour started. When was the last time someone touched him this way before Freddie, kindly but without an undercurrent of desire? It was...affectionate.

The next thing he knew, a hand was on his shoulder instead, shaking it gently.

“I know you’re tired, lovely man, but we’ve got to get up.” 

Brian was only slightly awake, Freddie’s words vaguely registering and floating around in his mind. But it was too _early_ to get up. He breathed deeply and didn’t move.

A little shake to his shoulder. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

 _Sweetheart._ That...that wasn’t one of Freddie’s usual pet names. He usually called people _darling, dear, dearie, cuties,_ and even _love_ or _lovies._ The thought slowly rolled around in his sleep-addled brain. He blinked his eyes open.

Once Freddie saw Brian’s eyes open, he grinned at him, but then he was out of bed and off to get dressed.

Still not any verbal acknowledgment of—anything.

Brian rubbed his eye with his knuckle. It felt like a fist was gripping his heart.

The touches during the mornings continued on. They were simple and not driven by sex. The kissing made Brian melt, and that was dangerous. Hiding his growing feelings during sex was difficult enough, but it was worse trying to bite his tongue when Freddie was sleep-mussed and kissing him sweetly. When they’d pull back for air, Freddie had a dazed look on his face, his eyes searching Brian’s—for what, he didn’t know. He was inscrutable with his silence, only occasionally broken by little sighs and moans. Then it would come time for them to get ready for the day, and they would share one last kiss and move on to other topics.

_“Do you know where my nail varnish went?”_

_“In the loo, I think.”_

Brian was never a morning person, but he found himself looking forward to them. He pushed away the fact that this would end when the tour finished.

* * *

Leave it to Roger to be an arse and stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.

The band was on the tour bus, and they were driving through the night to get to the next city, so instead of crashing in hotel rooms, they would use the narrow bunk beds on the bus. Brian twisted his mouth to the side when he eyed them. He would hardly fit in a bunk, let alone both him and Freddie. Besides, John and Roger might have known about them, but it still felt a little weird for Freddie to just come along to bed with him when the others would be sleeping right above or below them. He didn’t know if Freddie was aware that John and Roger knew about them, either. They’d come to Brian, but had kept their voices down and out of Freddie’s earshot. Did they mention this to him?

Freddie peered over Brian’s shoulder. “Little small, isn’t it?” he murmured.

“A bit,” Brian looked down at him.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Freddie frowned slightly. “Well, we’ll be back in a bed tomorrow night,” he said.

Brian nodded, understanding that they were to spend tonight apart, but not disheartened due to Freddie’s little reassurance. “Right, course.” It wasn’t a big deal, and by the time they were at the point in the last stretch of the tour that sleep came easily to Brian, despite being alone. He pulled the little curtain shut and fell asleep on his back, his feet against the wall (if he were any taller, he’d have to fold up his legs all night).

But bright, early morning light snuck past the curtain, falling onto Brian’s eyes and zapping through his dreams. “Hmmm?” his eyes cracked open.

The curtain closed again, but Brian felt more awake when Freddie laid on top of him, his slim hips against Brian’s abdomen, due to their height difference.

“Fre—?” He was cut off by a kiss.

Freddie held Brian’s face in his hands and kissed him softly. “Missed you,” he whispered against his lips.

It was dark in the bunk with the blue curtain drawn, and Brian could hardly make out Freddie’s face, but his other senses were heightened. Freddie’s breath was warm against his mouth, and his lithe body was solid and pressing against him. Brian heard the others snoring, so they had time for this. He lightly held his hips and kissed him back. The small space and darkness of the curtain created intimacy, along with how their bodies were pressed together from head to toe. Freddie had his head tilted, kissing slowly and gradually opening his mouth, his lips as plush as ever. The tip of his tongue licked briefly inside of his mouth, and then it retreated so he could close his mouth around Brian’s lower lip.

Brian stifled a groan in his throat, and he could feel Freddie’s bulge against his body. They couldn’t fool around now, with Roger and John sleeping right there, but his cock twitched with interest.

“Fred,” he whispered. “We—mmm, we can’t,” he said, words muffled.

Freddie pulled back. It was too dark to see, but his smile was clear in his tone. “I’m not trying to start anything,” he whispered. “Why, getting worked up, darling?”

The tease. “Behave,” Brian whispered, and cupped the back of his neck to kiss him again. They kissed quietly in the dark, and it was almost torture trying to stay silent and still when Freddie’s body was right _there_ and responding to his touch, but it was a little fun, too. He felt drunk on their proximity and the scent of Freddie’s shampoo, and he was groggy enough that this felt like a pleasant dream. They were in their own little world.

And then the sharp sound of the curtain being pulled back and bright light cut right through it.

“Oi, lovebirds, you plan on getting up anytime soon?” Roger asked with a raised eyebrow.

Brian and Freddie broke apart with a start and a gasp, and Freddie sat up so quickly that he knocked his head against the bottom of the top bunk.

“Ouch, Roger!” his hand flew up to rub at his head.

Brian really hoped the blush on his face wasn’t as visible as it felt (the same went for his semi hard-on, for that matter). “Fucking hell, Roger,” he growled through gritted teeth.

“I told you to leave them be,” John said casually from the top of his bunk across the aisle.

Roger shrugged. “We’ll be there soon, though; it’s not my fault they can’t go a night without being lovey-dovey,” he scrunched up his nose.

 _Lovey-dovey._ It was a ridiculous term, but held implications beyond the casual fucking they were doing. Or, beyond what Freddie was doing. Brian did feel soppy and pathetic when it came to Freddie, and Roger, the bastard, called him out on it. Shit, what would Freddie think?

“We’re not anything like tha—” Brian started, but stopped when Freddie flashed him a look with eyes so wide that his voice died in his throat.

But the look vanished and Freddie got out of bed with a thunderous glare. “Piss off, blondie,” he shot at Roger, and stomped to the loo on the bus, slamming the door behind him.

Brian sat up and had to tell himself that the show would go badly tonight if he murdered their drummer. “Mind your damn business,” he shot daggers at him.

“But this is stupid,” Roger crossed his arms over his chest. “How long are you two gonna mope around each other and—”

John had climbed down from his bunk and he put a hand on his shoulder. “Rog, leave them alone,” he said, firmer this time. “They’re adults.”

“But they’re adults we’ve been half-living with for months,” he said, whining just a little. “And if you,” he looked back to Brian, “would just talk to him—”

Brian didn’t want to say how it was pointless, because whatever feelings were weighing down his heart were not reciprocated by someone as wonderful as Freddie, so he stood up and towered over Roger. “I told you to mind your business,” he spat.

John was not in the mood. “Both of you, cut it out,” he said while pulling Roger back. “Just forget about it before Freddie comes out of the loo.”

“Tch,” Roger shrugged his shoulder out of John’s grasp. “Fine,” he turned and walked away.

They were all rather subdued that day, and Freddie and Brian largely avoided eye contact. They didn’t have sex that night, either. It was unspoken that neither, for once, was in the mood. Brian just got into bed after showering, feeling tipsy from the booze of the after party, but neither got too drunk tonight. The bed in this new hotel they were staying at was surprisingly soft, so he settled on his side with a sigh while Freddie was in the shower. He kept his eyes closed when Freddie’s footsteps padded on the carpet and he climbed into bed. He wrapped his arms around his middle. He was too small to be a proper big spoon, really, but Brian’s heart beat heavily at the feeling of Freddie’s chest moving against his back in a big inhale and exhale.

Brian’s chest was tight. It was just a hug. He shouldn’t feel overwhelmed. They’d done so much more. His chest shouldn’t hurt so much.

A tremble rippled through his body.

Freddie hummed softly behind him. “Shh, Bri, go to sleep,” he whispered.

Brian didn’t say anything, now staring at the wall. What...what an idiot he’d been, to think he could ever get a single drop of Freddie Mercury’s affection and not fall hard for him. It was the non-sexual touching that drove him over the edge. He just couldn’t take the lie-ins or deep kisses or the way Freddie looked in the early morning light, nor could he stop thinking about how loving (no, couldn’t be) Freddie’s touches to his hair were. He had lulled him to sleep, for god’s sake, and Brian was a needy person, always starving for one-to-one connections, to be taken care of, and to take care of a lover in return. He wanted more of these mornings, and more nights like this one now, and for their behavior to extend into other parts of the day and become normal. 

His heart was going to bleed and drip down the drain, he was going to crumble apart sooner or later from the sheer force of holding back words unsaid. _I want you all to myself. We can be good together, I think, don’t you? We’re so good already._ He wanted to press as many affectionate kisses to Freddie’s skin as possible, without having to justify it with sex or under the guise of drowsiness. But Freddie was elusive and a free spirit. He wouldn’t—didn’t—want what he wanted.

He spent hours wide awake.

The next night, after they performed, Brian was lost in thought as he sat at the bar in the club they’d gone to after the show. He was buzzed, but he couldn’t shake the weight in his chest. He’d felt lousy all day, but at least it didn’t affect his playing much. The tension made his playing more emotional, if anything. He would break if he went on like this, though, but they were almost done. They were approaching the end of the tour now, and a part of Brian wanted to go home, be alone, and lick his wounds, but what would he do without Freddie sleeping in his bed and snogging him lazily in the morning? Or holding him?

_Get a fucking grip, May._

Brian idly looked up to the mirror behind the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd out of curiosity, and he stopped when he saw Freddie.

A man was close to Freddie, saying something in his ear, a hand on his hip. Freddie was giggling, his hand over his mouth. The man looped an arm around his waist.

Brian’s blood ran cold and his eyes snapped down to the drink in his hand. It wasn’t shocking, really. It was a simple confirmation of the terrible inevitable. He didn’t expect anything different. Freddie wasn’t going to stop flirting with other men because they shagged during this tour. He made no promises. He never said he would spend the rest of his mornings holding Brian and kissing him like he mattered. It would be unfair for Brian to get angry, so he didn’t. He just felt numb and sick to his stomach. His chest was empty. It was what he got for falling in love with Freddie Mercury, of all people.

But he couldn’t just sit here and watch someone else touch Freddie and make him blush. Brian needed to get his mind off him for once. He needed to remind himself that they weren’t an item.

He needed to get laid. 

Brian took one last drink from his glass and stood up, thinking of the location of the next nearest bar.

* * *

Brian didn’t especially like kicking people out of his bed as soon as they were done, but it wasn’t like he had the room to himself. Besides, something told him that he shouldn’t let Freddie know about this. Even though they weren’t a thing. His gut just told him to get this shag over with as quickly as possible. _Great job getting your mind off him,_ he thought bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” he told the woman with a strained smile. “I’d normally have no problem with you staying the night, but I don’t know how my roommate would feel about it.”

The woman, Kim, smiled at him over her shoulder as she hooked her bra back on. “I get it, cutie. Don’t worry. I’m not a big fan of sleeping in hotels, anyway.”

Brian laughed politely and sat up, looking for his discarded pants.

“But I can get a phone number from you, right?” Kim asked hopefully.

Brian looked back at her. “Oh. Well—”

He never had to answer.

The hotel room door opened and Freddie waltzed in while calling out, “Briiian!” He sounded drunk, but not too much. The room was only so big, and it merely took a couple heartbeats for Freddie to come into view. The bright smile and drunken flush vanished as he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and the blood drained from his face, his lips parting. His eyebrows furrowed, and then he closed his mouth with a swallow.

“Oh,” he said quietly, his shoulders dropping like he was a deflated balloon.

Brian’s heart was in his throat, suffocating him, because the look on Freddie’s face was not from simple surprise, but _hurt._ For a moment, he looked completely lost when his glassy eyes landed on Brian.

Kim looked back and forth between them (thank god she’d gotten her underwear on), and she glared at Brian. “Just a roommate, right?” she spat.

Freddie flinched at her words, but lifted his chin and smiled weakly. “No, no, we are,” he said faintly. “There’s nothing...We were never…” He swallowed audibly. “I’ll let you get dressed, dear. I’m sorry for barging in. I didn’t know.”

“Freddie,” Brian called, almost choking out his name from the tightness in his throat.

Freddie fled from the room, slamming the door shut.

Kim was furious. “You dick,” she said under her breath, pulling on her skirt and top as quickly as possible. “Next time you wanna cheat on your boyfriend, get some other girl!” she spat.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Brian protested hotly.

She picked up her purse with a snort. “Yeah, right. I saw the way he looked at you.”

Shards of ice broke in Brian’s chest, and after several angry stomps and another slamming of the door, he was alone. He laid on his back and put his hands over his eyes. He was getting a headache. He didn’t expect Freddie to be back so soon, figuring he’d go off with that man at the club. He’d come back to the room looking for Brian, only to see him in bed and a woman in her bra and pants. Bile sloshed around in Brian’s stomach. His heart was racing, he was sweating, and it felt like he was about to have an anxiety attack. He breathed slowly in and out of his mouth, but he still felt horrible. Freddie ran from the room like he’d been burnt, denied they were together in a voice that sounded more resigned than stating a fact. Freddie was powerful, never let anyone or anything get to him—but Brian made him look confused and upset in front of a total stranger.

At the end of the day, Freddie was a shy, sensitive man, and Brian had completely let his own feelings drown out everything else and forget that. Oh, god, how _selfish_ he was tonight. _What have I done?_

Brian was shaking, guilt clawing at his heart and acid burning his stomach. But if Freddie had feelings beyond attraction, why didn’t he _say_ anything?! Why did he flirt with someone else tonight? Why did he leave Brian to try to parse out the meaning behind his actions? What did he _want_ from him? Angry, frustrated tears rolled down his cheeks. He fucked up every relationship he ever had. He was needy but lost in his own world, as stupid as he was intelligent and stubborn as a mule, and...He was only thinking of himself again. Where was Freddie right now? Where did he run off to, upset as he was? What if he wasn’t thinking clearly and got into trouble.

Brian scrubbed a trembling hand over his face, wiping away his tears. He had to go find him, somehow. He didn’t know how, but they couldn’t continue this deafening silence. He got up and dressed in a hurry. He didn’t know if he could make this right, but he had to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> I'm on tumblr under the same name~


	2. Chapter 2

Brian had no idea if Freddie left the hotel or not, but he knocked on Roger and John’s door in case he ran into either of them. Roger answered the door in his boxers, face blotchy from alcohol and eyes unfocused.

“What?” he asked gruffly.

“Have you seen Freddie?” he asked urgently.

“No,” he said, spine straightening and a tinge of worry getting through his lingering intoxication. “Has he not come back tonight? It’s...I dunno but it’s really late.”

“He did, but we—” He wasn’t up for explaining his wrongdoing at the moment, not only because of his guilt, but because he didn’t want to waste any time. “We had a fight and I don’t know where he went. But it’s late, like you said, and I’m worried. I thought he might’ve come here.”

Roger scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ugh, god,” he muttered to himself. “I haven’t seen him,” he said. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath. They were in a city with who-knows how many bars and clubs in a foreign country. How could Brian track him down? He didn’t even know where to begin. What if Freddie got really drunk and someone took advantage of him? What if he got hurt because Brian upset him? His pulse pounded in his neck. The thought of someone hurting Freddie made him want to vomit. He worried about him so much when he went out to clubs without the rest of the band, and if he got hurt because of Brian...

“He’ll come back,” Roger said through a yawn. “We all fight ‘bout stuff all the time and he comes back.”

Brian looked away, because this wasn’t one of their normal fights. “No, I fucked up.”

Roger squinted. “Whatcha do?”

He shook his head shamefully. “Look, I...I’ve got to try to find him,” he said without having a clue how. 

Roger dropped his question, clearly wanting to go back to bed. “He can take care of himself, Bri, but have you tried lookin’ ‘round the rest of the hotel? Maybe he needed space but didn’t leave. I’m sure he’s fine.”

That was the only realistic course of action he could take. “I’ll try looking here,” he nodded, and went down the hall before Roger responded. This was the one thing he could do and he pinned all his hopes on Freddie still being in the building somewhere. At this hour, several sections of the hotel were closed, such as the pool and dining rooms, so it didn’t take long for his long legs to stride through the building and search every non-private room. His legs burned a bit from walking around and taking the stairs, having too much anxious energy to take the elevator, and he soon reached the rooftop. By now, he was queasy with nerves and on the verge of despair, because what was he going to do once he reached the empty rooftop? 

But when he got up to the roof, his eyes widened and his knees nearly gave out with relief.

There were several tables and chairs beside the rooftop bar, which was now closed (fuck, just how late was it?). There was a fence surrounding the edges of the roof for safety, and on the other end of the roof was Freddie, leaning his forearms against the top of the fence. It was a cool night, the breeze going through the thin fabric of Brian’s shirt and gripping him with a shiver. They were the only ones up there. The tufts of Freddie’s hair, wavy now after hours away from the straightener, blew gently in the breeze.

Brian began walking towards him, fighting the urge to pull him into his arms. _He’s safe._ “Freddie?” he called softly.

Freddie spun around with stunned eyes, the lights from the bar casting a dim glow on half of his face. His eyes were glassy and his lips were parted. Then, his expression hardened in a flash. “Don’t come near me, you bastard,” he said, voice biting. 

Brian kept walking towards him, dizzy with relief. “I was so worried—”

“Oh, please,” Freddie rolled his eyes immediately. “You were busy getting a blow job,” he said, shifting to the side and trying to walk past him.

“No, wait,” Brian protested, reaching out a hand.

“Didn’t think you’d be awake still,” Freddie said, shooting a side-glare in his direction. “You always pass out after sex like some virginal teenager.”

Brian didn’t take the bait. He knew Freddie’s temper masked his insecurity. It usually did. “Don’t go. We need to talk.”

He laughed humorlessly. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yes, there is!” he raised his voice out of pure exasperation. “That’s been the problem this whole time.”

“I don’t know what you’re going on about,” he narrowed his eyes and turned to walk away. “If you want me to even be on the same stage as you tomorrow, you’ll leave me alone.”

Brian took a couple long strides and stood in front of him, and Freddie met his gaze with fire in his eyes. Brian easily loomed over him with his height, but Freddie could hold his own against anyone with a glare alone.

“Didn’t you hear me? Can’t you get a hint?” his hands balled into fists.

 _No, not at all._ Brian’s mind raced to find something to say before Freddie walked away, and he could only begin with one thing. “I’m sorry.”

The indignation in his expression faded slightly, but he was scowling. “Why?” 

“I hurt you and I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “I’m no frail flower. I’ve dealt with men far worse than you.”

He pressed his lips together, knowing the validity of that statement. “I never said you were frail,” he said patiently. “But that’s not the point.”

“It’s stupid, you didn’t hurt me,” he denied, putting his hands on his hips. 

“I didn’t?” he questioned him. “Why’d you look so upset, then?”

“I wasn’t upset,” Freddie said like it was ridiculous. “Why would I have been upset? It’s not like I asked anything of you.” His gaze lowered and he turned his face away. “We just fuck for fun. Nothing else,” he said, and his tone had lost its fire. “You’re hardly my first.”

Brian watched the way his eyes lowered to the ground and how he bit the inside of his cheek. He knew when Freddie was lying. He clearly didn’t think they were friends with benefits. But damn it, why did he act like they were for so long? Brian needed answers. 

“If it’s just for fun, then why are you angry with me?” he challenged.

Freddie’s eyes shot up to his. “Because a _warning_ would’ve been nice.” His snark was back.

“We were finished. You didn’t catch us in the act. She’s gone now and you can come back,” he pushed back, because he was so bloody tired of them dancing around this.

“I’d rather not,” Freddie said, being difficult.

“Why?”

“It smells like sex,” he hissed.

“No, it doesn’t,” he crossed his arms.

“I can’t sleep in your bed with _her_ scent in it,” he raised his nose haughtily.

Brian raised an eyebrow. “You’re that worked up over not sharing a bed with me?”

Freddie faltered, and then glowered at him. “Fuck you,” he growled, and shoved past him.

Brian started to panic again. He was fucking this up. He had to get Freddie to stop being so defensive. He was so obviously upset but—but what about tonight? “Why’re you upset when you flirted with that man tonight?” he blurted out. “What sense does that make?”

Freddie looked around, eyebrows raised. “What man?” he asked, puzzled.

Brian spluttered, at the end of his rope and suppressing shivers from the cold. He felt mad. “What do you mean? Tonight at the club, I saw some man whispering in your ear and you were blushing,” he waved his hand, “and laughing, and you two were close and he put his arm around you, and. And stuff.”

Freddie was astounded. “Brian...Brian, no. _He_ was flirting with _me,_ but I wanted to let him down gently. I told him I—” he cut himself off suddenly. He swallowed and turned his head away. “It wasn’t what it looked like,” he said quietly.

Brian’s jaw dropped. “You...weren’t flirting with him?” he asked hoarsely.

Freddie shook his head mutely, eyes glued to the table next to him.

Brian backed up and slumped into the chair next to a table, feeling like the life was drained out of him. Freddie wasn’t flirting. Brian just put them through so much bullshit for _nothing,_ and all because he was so _fucking_ insecure. He felt even worse about himself.

The sounds of Brian dropping into the seat and the chair scraping across the ground caused Freddie to turn his head, and his brow crinkled with worry. “Brian, you’re pale. Are...are you shaking?”

He was. He didn’t know if it was from the cold. He just, he just felt like he screwed everything up from the beginning, from when they first got together. He was so bad at relationships. And yet...and yet if only Freddie had said something, this could have been averted. Neither dealt with this well. He was sick of games and avoidance. He was going to set the record straight. _Be a man,_ his father’s voice told him in his head. Brian had been staring at the ground for a few seconds, but now he lifted his head and looked directly at Freddie. 

Freddie’s eyes were fixed on him. “You really thought I was flirting with someone else?” he asked slowly, the anger gone now.

Brian nodded. 

“I wasn’t,” he said, crestfallen. His hands weren’t balled into fists anymore, and were nervously fiddling with a loose string on his jacket.

“If this thing between us means nothing, then why _didn’t_ you?” Brian asked directly, sternly, hands gripping the edge of the chair tightly.

Freddie’s eyes went big, and then there was a slight tremble to his lower lip and he ducked his head.

An image of Freddie, self-conscious and looking down at his shoes while backstage for Smile, flashed in Brian’s mind. His heart clenched. “Freddie?”

Even in the night, the deep red on his face was visible from the lights at the bar. He looked small and shy in a way he hadn’t looked in front of Brian in years. “I told him I had a boyfriend,” he mumbled, giving up the act. 

Brian’s stomach dropped. He never felt like such a terrible person in his life. _Fuck_ it. He needed to make this right. He hated that Freddie looked so dejected. He got up and closed the space between them by wrapping his arms around Freddie’s back.

He inhaled sharply and put his hands on his chest, but didn’t push him away.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said sincerely, voice scratchy. He turned his face in his hair so his lips were close to the shell of his ear. “I’m so sorry.”

Freddie gripped his shirt, small in his arms. “You slept with her _only_ because you thought I was going with someone else?” he asked timidly.

“That was the only reason, I promise,” he confirmed. “I was upset and thought that you didn’t care. About us.”

Freddie pulled back and looked at him quizzically. “Brian, you’re the one who never said anything and would shy away all the time.”

Brian was still as stone for a solid five seconds. “Freddie...for weeks, every time we shagged, you left my bed and acted like nothing happened!”

“That’s because you acted like nothing happened!” he poked him in the chest. _“I_ was the one who started sleeping with you. Literally sleeping, I mean.”

“I…” His brain short-circuited. “Please, can we _please_ talk about all of this now? I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Freddie looked down at his hands on his chest. His shoulders moved up and down with a sigh. “You’re a smart man, so I thought you’d catch on, but I think we’ve both been rather dense, darling. I’ll come out with it.” He paused, swallowing nervously. “I always considered you off-limits because I knew you’d be more than a nice shag. We were too close for that. The first time was because I was too drunk to stop myself, but after that, I thought…” He licked his lips, his anxiety a stark contrast to how casually he (seemed to have) acted up until tonight. He looked up at him from under his lashes. “I thought if we kept doing it, you’d notice I wanted you, and maybe you’d like being with me, and start to like me, and…” he trailed off.

There were moments, away from the stage and press, when Freddie was so earnest and sweet that Brian couldn’t help but love him. This was one of them. All of the other moments like this from the past couple months were before his mind’s eyes, and he truly felt like a moron, because even though Freddie didn’t directly say anything, he wasn’t subtle, not really. He curled up to Brian in the night and caressed his face and hair in the early morning, and couldn’t spend a night without him without climbing into his bed for kisses before dawn. For some reason, the beautiful, wonderful man that was Freddie Mercury wanted him. He referred to him as his _boyfriend_ to another man tonight.

Brian pressed their cold lips together briefly. “I do,” he looked into his dark eyes. “Of course I like you, Freddie. More than that. I want to be with you.” His heart thumped heavily, his face warm and the cool breeze a distant memory. “The thought of this ending when we go home has been killing me,” he admitted.

Freddie’s face softened. “I don’t want it to end, either,” he whispered. “Brian,” he ran his hand down his chest.

Brian leaned in for another kiss, but Freddie put a finger to his lips.

“Can we go back to the room? I’m fucking freezing.”

Brian snorted, pressing their foreheads together, and he felt the warm breath from Freddie’s light laughter against his face. “Yeah,” Brian said, and stole a little kiss before letting go of him. They went back to their room as quickly as they could without running, a buzzing bubble of anticipation between them. His mind was wrapping around the fact that Freddie _wanted_ him. He wanted him. This wasn’t all pathetically one-sided. His thoughts were cut off as soon as they got in the room and Freddie’s cool hands were on his face, his mouth insistent against his. Brian kissed back, leaning against the wall for support. He’d been so worried earlier that he wouldn’t find Freddie, that he’d be out somewhere with god-knows who, and he breathed a sigh of relief out his nose.

Freddie’s plump lips were warming as they kissed and he wasted no time, his tongue teasing at the seam of his lips. Brian parted his lips, arousal sparking in him when their tongues met, hot and wet. After a few moments, Freddie left the inside of his mouth and kissed him hard. He nibbled his bottom lip.

“Getting to the point, are we?” Brian asked when they stopped for air.

“Bloody right, I am,” Freddie said, moving his hands from his cheeks and loosely wrapping his arms around his neck. “You’ve got some making up to do,” he said, but his expression was far more flirtatious than irritated.

“What do you want tonight?” he asked, hands slowly running down his sides to grasp his hips.

Freddie’s eyes darkened, almost entirely black, and amusement curled his lips upward. “I think you should do all the work tonight. Maybe make it so I have a hard time prancing around stage tomorrow.”

 _Fuck._ Okay, he was forgiven. Brian squeezed his hips. “Yeah, all right,” he nodded, cock stirring in his pants. They snogged and touched each other as they had done dozens of times before, their kisses hungry. They couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop touching each other, hands alternating between gripping onto clothes and taking them off. They went on the bed ( _not_ used by Brian and what’s-her-name) with Freddie on his back, their movements practiced. His chest was bare and his tight trousers were unzipped. His wavy black hair was spread out against the white pillow case, his cheeks had a warm flush painted across them, and his lips were pink from kissing.

Brian was straddling him from above, stripped down to his pants and socks (Freddie had a superpower for getting people undressed quickly, he swore). His heart gave a little flutter, and he said something he never voiced before, his lips moving before he could think. “You look beautiful tonight.”

That caught Freddie off guard and his eyelashes fluttered with blinks.

Brian’s face heated, but no, he wouldn’t back down. He _couldn’t,_ at this point. He’d spent so long bottling this all up and now that he knew Freddie wanted to be with him, he had a feeling it was all going to spill out of him beyond his control. He leaned down and kissed him, softer this time. He got lost in it a bit, because he could spend ages doing nothing but drowning in the sensation of those petal-soft lips and the slightest scrape of stubble. Brian tilted his head and kissed him deeper, his chest feeling heavy, but not in a bad way. He placed his hand on Freddie’s chest, feeling the hard, quick beats beneath his palm. He gently took his lower lip into his mouth, sucking lightly, his cock hardening at Freddie’s whine. He got caught up in licking and nipping at his mouth. He never liked kissing anyone as much as he liked kissing him. The sensation of Freddie’s full lips pressing against his made Brian groan into his mouth. He couldn’t help but rut lightly against Freddie’s thigh, getting hard. He could probably do nothing but kiss him and come against his thigh, but that was boring. What were they supposed to be doing? Oh, right, Freddie wanted him to fuck him. 

Freddie whined in protest and shifted his hips when the kiss broke. When Brian pulled back to look at him, his eyes were half-lidded and a touch dazed, and his red lips were parted.

“Gorgeous,” Brian told him because he could.

Freddie blinked again and his eyes flickered down. It was the first time he’d even resembled being shy in bed. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Something about that tore at Brian’s heart. He began kissing his neck, inhaling the vaguest scent of alcohol from earlier in the night and the last traces of cologne. Brian grunted when hands tangled into his curls, and he sucked the side of his neck. Their hips rocked together, bulges touching as he continued to tease Freddie. He left little marks on his chest where no one would see and slowly rubbed his thumb over his nipple. He felt it harden under the pad of his thumb. Precome leaked from Brian’s tip and dampened the front of his pants, and on their more rushed nights, they’d both come like this in their pants. But Freddie was always impatient in bed. Brian knew this, and truth be told, he loved when Freddie whined his name and told him to hurry up.

He ran his hand over his warm, bare chest, feeling the beating of his tender heart. He gently pinched his nipple, punctuating it with a suck to the underside of his jaw. Brian caught himself humping his thigh again when Freddie let out a high-pitched whine, and he stopped himself. It was when he flicked at his nipple and bit down on the spot in between Freddie’s neck and shoulder when he was told to “Fucking get on with it, Brian!”

He sucked one more time at Freddie’s deliciously warm skin and had mercy upon him. After not much time at all, he was working his long fingers inside of him, slick with lube, and watching his face. Brian loved seeing Freddie’s eyebrows furrow and mouth open in pleasure, he could come just from jerking off to the look on his face. He maintained control over himself, though. He stretched his fingers, his cock throbbing at Freddie’s facial expression. He thrust his fingers in and out, lust clouding his brain, but not enough to make him rush and do anything before Freddie was ready. Brian’s long fingers pumped in and out steadily, causing Freddie to squirm more and bite his own bicep to hold back sounds of pleasure. Brian nudged his prostate, and Freddie’s loud moan was muffled into his arm, his back arching and a drop of precome dripping onto his navel. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to grind down on his fingers.

Brian watched, spellbound. “God, look at you,” he breathed.

Freddie glanced up at him, and there was that look again, that _something_ Brian saw one time when he was inside of him. Arousal was as clear as day on his face, but his eyes were bright and warm. The furrow to his brow appeared less lustful and more emotional. Freddie was looking at him in the same way he did at times when he thought Brian didn’t notice, when he felt his gaze but wasn’t bothered by it to comment. 

A couple times, Brian would lift his head and ask, _“What?”_

And Freddie would shrug and say, with a sheepish smile, _“I just like spending time with you, dear.”_

Those moments made Brian blush before he knew what his own reaction meant, and. And it was _fondness._ Freddie stared up at him with all his walls of defense lowered, and what remained was tenderness.

Bloody hell, how did Brian not see what was right in front of him? His breath hitched in his throat.

Freddie frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching up and touching his face.

Brian shook his head, and with his free hand, held Freddie’s hand to his cheek. He turned his face and kissed his palm. “Nothing, baby,” he murmured into his skin. He couldn’t stop how each beat of his heart sent a heavy wave of affection through him, nor could he hold back terms of endearment because, god, he was so in love with the man beneath him. He didn’t even know for how long, because in hindsight, maybe all of those lyrics he’d written about love had a source of inspiration he hadn’t been aware of; that happened with plenty of his songs. He was still afraid to voice those three words, though, even after finding out this was all a big misunderstanding, because they could never be unsaid. For now, he’d have to settle for mushy pet names that would surely make Roger and John gag if he said them to Freddie around them.

Brian curled his fingers and Freddie’s eyes rolled back. He rocked down onto his hand. “I’m ready now.”

He did feel slick and open now, so Brian nodded and took out his fingers. He quickly removed his pants and hissed when he rolled on a condom. He was rock hard and _aching,_ but above all, he wanted to be close to Freddie. He wanted to plaster himself over his body and hold on all through the night. He had an idea. “Turn on your side,” he said, voice rough.

Freddie was curious, but obeyed.

Brian laid on his side behind him. They never tried this position before, but here, he was able to wrap his arms around Freddie’s chest, hook his leg over his hip, and slide into the tight, wet heat of his plump arse. Freddie gasped in front of him. His face was only partly visible from this angle, but it was worth Brian getting to hug him to his chest. He kissed the back of his neck.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Freddie replied. “Just a second.”

Brian was engulfed by heat and smothered kisses into Freddie’s back and shoulder to distract himself from moving. He could feel each breath Freddie took and the slight vibrations of his voice when he moaned. He was surrounded by Freddie, drunk on him. A tremble ran through Brian from the sheer closeness of him.

Freddie breathed deeply in and out of his mouth a few times. He clenched and unclenched around Brian. Then, his hand found his. He squeezed once.

Brian understood. He pulled back and then thrust back in, to the hilt. He heard Freddie’s moan and felt the vibration against his own chest, and Brian groaned and thrust harder. It was like his body was glued to Freddie’s. It felt amazing. He kept thrusting, trying to get even closer, but it was impossible. He had one hand secured over Freddie’s hammering heart and the other holding his hand. Feeling every beat of his heart and moan and whine in his chest was more intimate than Brian anticipated. It awakened a voice in him that repeated _mine, mine_ in his head. His thrusts were deep and hard, the snap of his hips rocking their bodies on the mattress. He chased his pleasure, but didn’t want this to end too soon.

The hotel room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, groans, and their bodies slapping together. Freddie’s body always felt incredible around his cock, and tonight was no exception. Brian held him close, partly to make Freddie feel good, and to keep himself tethered to the earth. Freddie was always so small in his arms, so much smaller than how he seemed on stage, flamboyant and dominant. But here, he was vulnerable with his mouth dropped open with long moans, and he let Brian dote upon him.

Brian kissed his shoulder again, opening his mouth over his salty skin and tasting.

Freddie’s eyes were closed, his face blissed out. “Ahh, ahh, Bri,” he moaned. He was trying to grind his hips to meet his thrusts, but the angle was a little difficult. He squirmed and buried his face into the pillow.

Brian bit down on his shoulder, satisfied when Freddie lifted his head to gasp. He didn’t want him to be quiet. 

“That’ll leave a mark,” Freddie pouted through his groan. “I can’t wear my, my leotard tomorrow.”

“Yes, you can,” Brian said into his ear. “No one in the au-audience will see.” He had to close his eyes for a second to control himself, because the wet tightness around him had heat swirling in his bollocks, but he wanted Freddie to come first.

“The others will see,” Freddie protested.

“They already know you’re mine,” Brian said, and teethed at his earlobe. He was hardly aware of what he said, at this point, but he knew it made Freddie release a high-pitched whimper and squeeze his hand harder, so it must’ve been good. They should have tried talking during sex sooner. It was nice. He lifted his head and was able to see more of Freddie’s beautiful face, debauched and unguarded. He held him tighter to his chest, if that were possible. He buried his face into his neck, groaning lowly as pleasure was building up more and more inside of him. He could feel himself getting addicted to this, not just the sex, but the feeling that they were finally fully connecting on an emotional level. He needed this in his life. He needed Freddie in his bed back home in England. 

“We’re doing this when we go home, too,” Brian said before biting his lip with a grunt. Fuck, he was getting close. The quick, deep rhythm he set up was making his toes curl and pleasure gather at his tip. His free hand ran up Freddie’s chest and toyed with a hard nipple.

“Oh god,” Freddie tilted his head back. “Yeah, yeah,” he moaned. “When we’re home,” he said, sounding dazed. “When we’re...hnn, Brian, mmm, _fuck.”_

He loved when he got Freddie like this, fucked out of his mind and desperate. He smoothed his hand down his abdomen to grasp his cock, hot and leaking.

 _“Brian!”_ he shouted, voice sounding raw at the edges, almost a little tearful. “Fuck, it’s—I can’t hold on. A- _ah,_ please, it’s too much.”

“Sh, sh,” Brian planted sloppy kisses on the side of his face. “I’ve got you, baby. ‘S okay. You’re amazing like this,” he told him sincerely, filled to the brim with love for this wonderful man. If having sex with Freddie was tearing him to shreds before, he was ruined beyond repair now. “You’re always so good for me,” he murmured into his hair.

Freddie’s whimper almost sounded tearful. He turned his head back as much as he could. “Kiss me,” he begged. “Bri, please.”

Brian captured his lips in a hot kiss, their tongues meeting. After a few more thrusts and strokes, Freddie arched his back and gasped loudly. His cock spurted over Brian’s hand, and his walls tightened and squeezed around him. 

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Brian swore, helpless against the tingling tidal wave building up inside him. His hips snapped without rhythm, and he was panting now. He stroked Freddie through his orgasm and tried to watch him, but his eyes closed on their own accord as he tipped over the edge. “Freddie,” he moaned into the space between his neck and shoulder and came hard. As waves of ecstasy pulsed through them both, Brian clung to him and buried his nose in his hair. His thrusts turned lazy as he rode out the last of his orgasm, and he let go of Freddie’s cock before he got uncomfortable. His mind went blissfully quiet for a couple of minutes, and the stress from the tour left his muscles. When he came back to earth, he slipped out of Freddie, causing them both to shiver. He removed the condom and tied it off, tossing it over the side of the bed to be dealt with later.

As soon as he could, Brian was curled up behind Freddie again, feeling his pounding heartbeat, warm skin, and his abdomen move up and down with his calming breaths. They laid there like that for a few minutes, catching their breath, sweat cooling on their skin. It must have been closer to dawn than midnight by now, but it was still dark out. Brian realized that Freddie was trembling.

“Are you okay?” Brian asked, hardly noticing he was shaking, too.

Freddie nodded. With a tired grunt, he rolled over, but stayed close. His eyes were sleepy and dark with fading arousal, but that adoration was there. Sure enough, he spoke, ever so quiet and sincere. “Be my boyfriend,” he said, face open and tender. “No, be my partner.”

“What’s the difference?” Brian asked, his insides melting like hot butter.

“It’s more complete,” he explained earnestly. “We’re partners in everything else. The white queen to my black. The Jimi Hendrix to my voice.” 

It was true that they always fit together so nicely, like two halves finally becoming whole. It’d been that way since Smile, when they sat on Brian’s bedroom floor and listened to Jimi Hendrix records and talked for hours about his genius. Even before Freddie became the singer of their band, Brian knew they had a shared vision.

Brian took his hand and kissed his knuckles, feeling at peace for the first time since their relationship began, the melting sensation fully settling into his chest. “Partners,” he murmured. His face softened even more when Freddie’s honey brown eyes looked at him like he just did something wonderful. Brian licked his lips. “I really care about you, Freddie.”

He wriggled happily in his arms. “I really care about you, too, Bri,” he said, his expression sunny despite his fatigue. 

Before, he would have said he couldn’t believe that Freddie actually wanted a relationship with him, but now that his insecurity was kissed away, he thought back to those Smile days and how the two of them always got on. “I’m sorry I was so stupid,” Brian mumbled. “I just didn’t think you’d want anything serious with me.”

Freddie rubbed his thumb over the top of Brian’s hand. “And here I was thinking I was too obvious,” he said.

He snorted. “Maybe you were and I’m just hopeless.”

“For such an intelligent man, you do miss the mark sometimes,” his grin widened. “But it’s all right. You’re cute enough to get away with it.” Brian’s cheeks turned pink and Freddie giggled. “You just had your cock in me, and you’re blushing because I called you cute?”

“It’s different,” Brian said with a self-conscious laugh.

“Sure it is,” he yawned.

He pushed Freddie’s messy, sweaty bangs away and kissed his forehead. 

Freddie’s smile grew a touch self-conscious. “You’re very affectionate tonight. Have you been holding back?” he asked with a smidgen of hope in his voice.

He couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, actually. I didn’t think you wanted, uh, boyfriend-like stuff.”

“You know I like being pampered,” he said with a giddy smile.

Brian chuckled and pressed a few quick kisses to his cheek in succession, a bubble of joy rising in him at the sound of Freddie’s melodious laughter.

He pulled back, feeling stupid by how much he loved him. Freddie yawned, so Brian said, “We should get some sleep.”

Freddie stole a chaste kiss from his lips. “I don’t even wanna know what time it is,” he sighed. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

“I thought you wanted to go shopping before the concert?”

He buried his face into Brian’s chest. “Too tired.”

“Too tired to shop? You really must be exhausted.”

Freddie hummed sleepily and just burrowed closer to him.

Brian pulled the blankets over them and wrapped one arm around Freddie’s shoulder, and cradled the back of his head with his hand. The adrenaline from the rush of emotions hit him, combined with the physical exhaustion of performing tonight and shagging (twice, technically), and he was asleep in no time.

* * *

They did sleep in the next day, and the first thing they did after getting up was shower together. That took longer than it should have, and they both had to hurry up and actually get washed when the water turned cold and completely killed the mood. They laughed about it, though, and decided to stay in their room until they had to leave for the concert. They deserved a day to themselves, and it was so domestic that Brian couldn’t wait until they were actually home and away from everyone else. This was the lifestyle they’d chosen, but the whole band and their crew longed to go home every time they approached the end of the tour. It was an exhilarating but stressful time. They sat and talked about this for a bit, and that turned into Brian offering to give Freddie a message to work the knots from tension and stress out of his shoulders. 

“Well, who am I to deny your talented fingers on me?” Freddie asked with a sly smile.

Brian rotated his fingers and broke up the tightness of his shoulders, and just as his cock twitched in response to Freddie moaning in front of him, there was a knock on the door.

“Ugh,” Freddie said. “Whoever it is can wait.”

Brian kissed the side of his neck and kept rubbing his shoulders. He didn’t want to get up. He was currently debating if another shag would tire Freddie out too much before their show in a few hours.

“Brian? Is Freddie there?” Roger’s voice called.

They both sighed in annoyance and Brian let go of him. “I guess we shouldn’t ignore him,” he said, standing up and adjusting his trousers. At least he hadn’t really gotten hard yet. 

“He wants me?” Freddie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Brian opened the door to see both Roger and John. 

“Hey,” Roger said. “I thought I’d dreamt you coming to our room last night, but then I remembered. Is everything okay?”

“Did Freddie come back?” John asked.

“I’m right here, dearies,” Freddie said, approaching the door.

“Oh, good,” Roger sighed in relief.

“You thought something was wrong?” Freddie asked. “Come in, by the way, don’t just stand there.”

Roger and John stepped inside and shut the door behind them, and Brian cleared his throat self-consciously when Roger said, “Yeah, well, Brian knocked on our door in a panic last night about, I dunno, 1 or 2 because he said you’d run off. We hadn’t seen either of you all day, so we got worried.”

Freddie looked up at him in surprise. “Oh, darling, did I put you in a panic?”

 _Yes._ “No it’s, it’s fine,” Brian lied, shuffling on his feet. “I just thought you might’ve gone to their room.”

“He was totally panicked,” Roger deadpanned. “I saw him.”

Brian shot daggers at Roger as Freddie smiled up at him.

John saved him, though, by asking, “What even happened last night?” 

Brian and Freddie shared a look. Brian wasn’t proud of his actions, even if he’d acted on the basis of a misunderstanding. It wasn’t like rock stars were known for being faithful, but he knew that wasn’t an excuse, and Roger might punch him if he found out he hurt Freddie.

But Freddie waved his hand and said, “Simply a bit of melodrama, Deacy. It’s over now. All you need to know is our night ended rather spectacularly,” he said as he looped his arm around Brian’s bicep and winked.

Roger stuck out his tongue in mock disgust.

John sighed tiredly, like he knew this was coming. “Look, it’s nice that you two finally sorted things out, but you do realize that for me and Roger, it’s like hearing that our brothers are shagging each other?”

“Really,” Roger crossed his arms. “I’m happy for you, but the last thing I want to think of is you two fucking.”

“I don’t blame you,” Brian said truthfully. “I can see how it’s weird for you.” 

“Yes, sorry,” Freddie smiled sheepishly. “But I can’t guarantee I won’t make dick jokes in the future. You know how I am.”

That got a laugh from Roger and John.

“You already talk about his dick on stage,” Roger said.

“Exactly!” Freddie said.

“Fred,” Brian scolded, although there wasn’t much heat behind it. After all, what man didn’t like someone else bragging about how big he was? Brian was only human.

“Can we set ground rules, though?” John asked. “Please, no shagging around us.”

“Of course not!” Freddie said.

“That includes while we’re all sleeping in bunks on the bus,” John pressed on. “Curtains aren’t actually doors.”

Freddie frowned. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Brian agreed, although he felt a little disappointed about that. Maybe they could get away with it if they were quick and quiet...but then again, Freddie was rarely quiet.

“And I have the right to make fun of you if you two are all gooey and saccharine with each other,” Roger mocked with a kissy face.

“We’re not like that,” Brian retorted.

Both Roger and John laughed at him.

“All right, you proved your point,” Brian said, face pink. “Out, you two,” he pushed them by their shoulders. “Now.”

“Aw, were we interrupting your smoochy time?” Roger taunted.

“You were,” Freddie said, quick on his feet, “and if you don’t want to hear me praising his long, lovely cock, you’ll leave.”

John turned white as a ghost and Roger gagged loudly. “Retreat, John!” he grabbed his arm, opened the door, and left with him.

Brian didn’t know if he should be annoyed or amused.

Freddie batted his eyelashes. “What? I only speak the truth.”

Any attempt to hold off on sex until after the concert was off the table. “Get over here,” he looped his arm around Freddie’s waist and brought him close.

* * *

They kept their word and didn’t engage in PDA outside of the bedroom, if for no other reason, because they didn’t want the press to have a field day with their relationship. Roger and John didn’t out them to anyone, either, not that Brian thought they would. 

Things outside their hotel room were different, though, in a good way. Now, when he would try to catch Freddie’s eye at certain points during the day, he would look back at Brian with a pleased little smile he would attempt to hide behind his hand.

Brian couldn’t help smiling back, because having Freddie give even the smallest acknowledgment of their relationship during the day felt amazing.

“They’re staring at each other again,” Roger fake-whispered to John in the dressing room a few nights later.

“Shut it, Rog,” Brian said, but then he had to bite his bottom lip to prevent his smile from widening when Freddie reached up on his toes and kissed his cheek.

“Don’t get wound up, love,” Freddie patted his cheek and sauntered over to the mirror to finish his makeup.

Brian stared after him, looking at Freddie’s face in the mirror and the satisfied smile on his face. They had been touring for months, they were all tired and ready to go home even though they had a few shows left, but Brian felt like he was walking on air. He was with Freddie, they were an _item._ How lucky he was. How much happier they both would’ve been if they had an adult conversation earlier. He didn’t want to dwell on it, though, when Freddie met his gaze in the mirror and quickly looked away, his smile widening enough to show his teeth.

“Yep, he’s gone off in la la land,” John whispered to Roger, nodding to Brian, who was still standing in the same spot with the same smile across his face.

“More like Freddie Land,” Roger said.

John held back a snort. “He’s been in Freddie Land for years.”

“It’s better than when he was moping around, though.”

“God, definitely,” John agreed.

Brian inhaled loudly and came back to reality, and he looked over at them. “What?” he asked, head tilting at the shit-eating grins on their faces.

“Just pumped for the show!” Roger told him.

“Oh,” he grinned lightly. “Yeah.” He looked over to Freddie. “Hey, Fred, d’you need some help with your hair?” he walked across the room to him.

“He’s bloody hopeless,” John laughed behind his fist, trying to keep quiet.

“As if Freddie’s any better,” Roger said, and he and John shared a fond, but exasperated sigh when Freddie beamed up at Brian and let him fix his hair.

Freddie and Brian were oblivious to this, but after months of tension, Roger and John decided to leave them be. 

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really looooooved writing this one, so I hope you enjoyed it :) I'm definitely not done with this pairing, and I want to write a story next from Roger and John's point of view where they try to lowkey get Freddie and Brian together. We'll see!  
> Say hi to me on tumblr if you want~


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